


Stars, hide your fires

by usasarah



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Bottom Obi-Wan Kenobi, De-Aged Obi-Wan Kenobi, Eventual Smut, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, Past Child Abuse, Top Anakin Skywalker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:01:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29007231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usasarah/pseuds/usasarah
Summary: Stumbling from the murky black water, a form emerges, a form distinctly no longer Obi-Wan. It’s a child, soaked to the bone, trembling and reeking of terror, with wide eyes gleaming like kybers.(Obi-Wan Kenobi cries kyber tears, and the whole Galaxy tears itself apart for it.)
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 81
Kudos: 465





	1. Preface

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SWModdy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SWModdy/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Kyber tears](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19477147) by [SWModdy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SWModdy/pseuds/SWModdy). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, I know I should be finishing my other fic rn but I had this idea in my head and couldn't get it out. 
> 
> This fic is inspired by (and thus gifted to) SWModdy's "Kyber tears" fic. I took the idea of Obi-Wan being a "star child" from Stewjon with the ability to cry kyber crystals from them. Besides that premise, the fics are completely different. You do not need to read "Kyber tears" to understand and appreciate this fic, but I highly recommend (its an excellent story).

“ _Stars, hide your fires; let not light see my black and deep desires.”_

_\--_

The child was small and dirty, huddled around himself, and standing in such stark contrast to the jewels, riches, and gold that surrounded him. 

He was like a rip in an elaborate painting or an unpolished corner in a brilliant stain glass, such a harsh picture amongst such frivolous beauty. His hair was matted and clothes torn and much too large for such a thin frame. 

The child shuffled backwards, head bent forward and hiding his face from Qui-Gon, who could only look on in curiosity. Of all the things, he had expected to discover in Aleen, a small, battered boy tucked away in the Kingdom’s grand Treasury was not one. 

His first assumption was the child had somehow slithered through the royal guard’s defenses, but that was quickly expelled. Aleen was located in the Mid Rim’s Bright Jewel Sector and known for its mining of fine and precious gems, the planet’s primary export, and the Treasury was constantly under heavy security as a result. The King was lavish and imprudent, a man who loved to flaunt his wealth and riches, but also loved to keep it all to himself, much to the detriment of his own people. 

Qui-Gon, a Jedi Master, had been able to maneuver past the rather impressive defenses. He doubted a child— _this_ child—was capable of the same. 

The manacle and chain secured to the child’s ankle answered his question to the nature of the child’s presence. 

A prisoner...in a gilded cage. 

He had been sent to investigate rumours about the Aleena ruler’s alleged dabbling into illegal slave practices to help facilitate his jewel Empire. The long chain was magnificent itself, a sterling and polished silver. 

Everything in the Treasury reflected such opulence and was kept in such order. Qui-Gon could see no reason for keeping a slave— _a prisoner, a pet?_ —amidst such treasure. 

The child took another step back, stumbling as his small feet slid across a few discarded copper coins. He tumbled without a sound, no yelp, no cry. The boy stayed there, curled in on himself. 

Qui-Gon dared to move forward after a silent moment. “Hello there,” he said gently, hoping not to startle the boy further. His Force signature reeked of terror, and what a strong Force signature it was. 

There was no doubt that this child before him was Force sensitive, and that certainly complicated the situation. 

There was no response and no movement, only the persistent and prevailing feeling of fear. Qui-Gon attempted to make himself small, dropping to one knee before the child. 

Up close, he could see how clearly the boy was battered. His skin was purpling and mottled with bruises, infected cuts littered his arms, and the soles of his feet were caked in dried blood. The tremble in the boy’s body was indicative of his fright, and Qui-Gon did his best to project calmness through the Force. 

He listened to the sounds of the boy’s breathing for a long time, noting how the almost strangled gasps for air turned into hitched hiccups before finally settling into a slow—albeit unsteady—cadence. 

Qui-Gon tried again. “Hello,” he greeted kindly. “I must admit I’m technically not authorized to be here, but I suppose you shouldn’t be here either.” The Jedi gestured to the chain. “How long have you been kept down here?”

No answer. 

It didn’t deter him. Qui-Gon didn’t expect one. 

He unlatched a packet of bacta gel from his belt and held out an open palm towards the boy. “You’ve got quite a few nasty cuts there. I can help,” he offered. He was once again not surprised when there was no movement, but he persisted. “They still need to be cleaned of course, but this should help for the meantime.” 

After another long moment, “I won’t hurt you.”

The boy looked up, and Qui-Gon hoped he did his best to keep his expression as neutral as possible. 

The child’s eyes were a startling crystalline green and blue mix, almost unsettling, almost inhuman. They shined brighter than all the glittering jewels combined. 

Qui-Gon smiled, and the child must have understood the sincerity of his promise, placing his small arm in the Jedi’s open palm. The child’s gaze was unnerving, so Qui-Gon directed all his attention in applying the cool gel to the still open cuts. He took his time and was almost reverent with his actions, ensuring that he handled this fragile and sacred moment with the utmost gentleness. 

When he took the boy’s other arm in hand, he offered his name. “I’m Qui-Gon,” he said politely. “What do you call yourself?”

He fleetingly wondered if the child even had a name or if he knew it for that matter. Qui-Gon supposed he was five or six standard years old, no more. He didn’t want to speculate how long the child had been held in captivity, but there was a horrifying possibility that this vermeil prison was all he had known. 

He almost didn’t hear the answer for the name was spoken so quietly.

“Obi...Wan.” The words were stilted and rough for such a soft voice, and the pronunciation so strange and foreign, even for Qui-Gon who had been to distant, uncharted corners of the Galaxy and traversed through nearly forgotten star systems. He didn’t know if the boy's manner of speaking had more to do with his origin or by the chance that he often didn’t use his voice or hear others speak—or perhaps both. 

Qui-Gon smiled again, daring to look again at those enchanting crystalline eyes. “Obi-Wan,” he repeated. “That sure is a unique name. Are you from Aleen?”

The boy shook his head. “Stewjon.”

 _Oh_ , Qui-Gon had heard of Stewjon before, in the context of myth and legend more specifically. He recalled tales of soaring cliffs and mountains that reached so high they scraped the sky. He had been told about high up lakes that reflected the night so vividly, you could practically swim amidst the stars. He had been told about a race of humans, so recluse and so ascetic, they were a dying breed. Dozens of fairy tales he had been fed about Stewjon that he was sure that the child before him must have been lying or had heard the stories himself and created a false, distant, and much more comforting reality for himself. 

Qui-Gon hummed as he finished applying the bacta. Obi-Wan’s legs were still horrendously cut up; he would have to get more from his ship. 

Then from the corner of his eyes, a bright glint appeared, stilling him in his thoughts. He turned, rising once more to his full height. 

He could feel Obi-Wan’s curious gaze on him as he approached a half-opened chest not too far away. He could feel the strong thrum of the Force, and what he had assumed to be merely the presence of another Force-sensitive was something more. He flipped open the bejeweled lid of the chest and cursed. 

_Kyber crystals._

And dozens of them, all different shades and hues of greens, blues, and even purple. 

He had never seen so many together except for when he was a youngling himself, sent to the ice planet of Ilum during the annual Gathering, a rite of passage within the Jedi Order, where they were sent off to find a crystal that sang to them and would eventually be used in the construction of their first lightsaber. 

The caves of Ilum were as clear as ever in his memory. The darkness of the rock was decorated with a smattering of the crystals, an almost exact picture of a clear night sky. The Force had swirled around them like a storm, volatile and powerful.

Kyber crystals were clear before they became Force-attuned with a Force sensitive, but the ones collected here, within Aleen’s Treasury, were brilliantly colored, meaning that there was a Force sensitive collecting kyber crystals for the Kingdom...or they were stolen from Jedi. 

Qui-Gon had an inkling that it was the latter. 

He knelt down and plucked a kyber that was a color so shockingly akin to Obi-Wan’s eyes and shuddered. 

_Pain, sadness, loneliness._

He immediately dropped the crystal, mind reeling and heart hammering. 

Kyber crystals often adopted the feelings and sentiments of the Force sensitive that had harvested said crystal, and these ones—all of them—spoke off such unbelieve despair and fear. 

Qui-Gon needed to report this to the Council and immediately. 

Kyber crystals were not just pretty to look at. They could be manufactured for limitless capabilities. The Jedi used them to power their lightsabers, but the potential of the crystals had yet to be explored for the Order was obsessively conscious of all the kyber crystal deposits across the Galaxy, even beyond Ilum. They were to be used sparingly and for specific purposes. 

And the Aleen King had quite a few in his possession. 

When Qui-Gon turned back around, Obi-Wan was back on his feet, a strange expression in his gaze. 

“A-Are y-you...leaving?”

It took the Jedi a second to completely process the boy’s words and when he did, his heart plummeted.

Obi-Wan’s home was not here, not under the control and whim of a prideful and gluttonous King who used this child for whatever perverse purposes.

“I am, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon confirmed. With delicate fingers, he pocketed one of the kybers as evidence for the Council before unclipping his lightsaber from his side and igniting it.

Obi-Wan’s eyes swelled at the sight, and the green glow of the weapon illuminated the orbs so hauntingly, so beautifully.

“Would you like to come with me?”

There was no hesitation. The child nodded.

Qui-Gon slashed the chain, and Obi-Wan discovered the lightness of freedom. 

As the freighter ship ascended, breaking past Aleen’s atmosphere, the holovoid of the Council shimmered to life. 

“Master Jinn, successful your mission was?” Master Yoda asked. 

In his peripheral, Qui-Gon watched as Obi-Wan wandered around the cockpit, hands politely at his sides but eyes wide in wonder. 

Qui-Gon hummed, carefully considering his words. “To a degree, Master Yoda,” he said tentatively. 

Master Yoda stroked his cane, green ears perking in interest. 

“Explain will you?”

“I believe I have ample evidence of the Aleen Kingdom utilizing slave labor in violation of the Galactic Republic’s mandates. The Senate should now have the means to pursue justice accordingly. However, I have made two additional _discoveries_.”

Obi-Wan ambled out of the cockpit, no doubt on his way to explore more of the ship. Qui-Gon hoped he wouldn’t hurt himself. 

“Kyber crystals,” Qui-Gon continued. “There was quite a collection of them, already attuned to a Force sensitive. I cannot make any conclusions if the kybers were being used for malicious purposes or in the construction of any weapons. If I had to guess...the Aleen King simply likes pretty and rare things. There is a possibility he did not know of the true nature of the crystals and was simply hoarding them.”

“A possibility the Order cannot entertain. Immediate intervention required is, not only by the Senate but also by the Jedi.”

The rest of the Council voiced their agreement. 

“Another discovery there is, one that deeply troubles you.”

Qui-Gon sighed. He reached out into the Force, feeling for Obi-Wan’s signature. While the child’s Force signature certainly wasn’t the strongest he had come into contact with, it was most definitely the brightest, despite the fact that it was still clouded with an undercurrent of sadness and pain. 

“A boy, a young Force sensitive boy kept in captivity by the King in the planet’s Treasury. He’s injured, malnourished, and—”

“Excuse me, Master Jinn. Did you say he was kept in the _Treasury_? I cannot fathom a reason for that,” another council member exclaimed. 

“I cannot pinpoint a reason as well, and I am cautious to ask the child—Obi-Wan he said his name was—for an explanation. I’m more concerned about the child’s well being currently. He is strong in the Force, and I plan on taking a midichlorian count as soon as possible, but the abuse and neglect of this child is evident.” Another pause. “He has said that he is from _Stewjon_.”

The utterance of that word brought on an onslaught of fraught discussion and questions. 

“That can’t be possible!” one council member shouted. “The boy must be delusional,” commented another. 

Master Yoda demanded silence, and the remarks ceased. The old Jedi was pensive for a long moment.

“Trained in the Force, you believe this Obi-Wan should be?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Trained as your padawan?”

Qui-Gon pursed his lips. The departure and subsequent fall to the dark side of his former apprentice Xanatos was still a fresh wound. He had spent the past few years in virtual isolation, begging the Council for one mission after another, voluntarily taking the ones that required long deployments. He had told himself he would never take another padawan, his failure as a teacher clearly evident. 

But the thought of Obi-Wan under anyone’s guidance besides his own felt unnatural, and the Jedi Master realized that it must be the Force pushing him in this direction, towards the child. 

“Yes, Master,” Qui-Gon declared definitively. 

Master Yoda nodded his head in assent. 

“Much more to be discussed, we have. In the meantime, care for the child you must. May the Force be with you, Master Jinn.”

The transmission ended, and Qui-Gon began his search for Obi-Wan. 

The boy was not too far away, merely pacing the belly of the ship. Obi-Wan paused at the sight of the Jedi, small fingers wringing together in anxiousness. 

“Follow me,” Qui-Gon beckoned. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Helping Obi-Wan wash himself in the refresher revealed many things to the man. First, there was a chance that nobody had cleaned the boy _for months_. The level of grime was thick, and Qui-Gon would have to clean the shower afterwards. A hideous rash was working its way up the back of the poor boy’s thighs, a repercussion of sitting in one’s own waste for much too long. Obi-Wan’s cheeks burned with embarrassment, and Qui-Gon did his best to be reassuring. 

Second, once the dirt had been scrubbed away—as gentle as possible, keeping in mind the still open cuts—it was like looking at a whole different child. Obi-Wan’s skin was pale, nearly translucent, and dusted with a constellation of freckles. 

Third, Obi-Wan’s hair was _not_ brown as he had first assumed. A deep cleanse of shampoo followed by some rather unfortunate snips to the completely matted parts of his hair allowed for the true color to shine through: a soft and light ginger hue. 

Fourth, he was going to have to be much more gentler with the child than he had already presumed. The scars and injuries were abundant, and the soles of his feet so mutilated, that every step had to hurt. He resolved himself to carry Obi-Wan, if and when the child allowed, until his feet were recovered. 

After dressing the wounds in more bacta patches and dressing Obi-Wan himself in one of Qui-Gon’s extra shirts (so large that it flowed past his feet), he could tell Obi-Wan was exhausted, swaying slightly and eyelids droopy with sleep. 

He bundled the child in his arms, glad that the fear that had been so prevalent before had all but faded, only apprehension and uncertainty rolling in its wake. 

A feeling akin to fondness bloomed in his chest as Obi-Wan nestled closer. Qui-Gon has always been hesitant with affection, but seeing the boy so starved for a kind touch, made the Jedi Master want to shower his future padawan in it. 

As they passed through the corridor towards the lone cabin on the ship, Qui-Gon was forced to pause as Obi-Wan’s head perked up. He was attempting to get a good glance of the outside from the small view of a porthole window. 

He’d almost forgotten. They had gone into hyperspace at the end of the holocall with the Council; the child must have never seen anything like it—glowing lines as they hurtled through space at amazing speeds. The novelty had quickly worn off for him, but seeing Obi-Wan’s expression had him once again thinking about how magnificent the picture outside was. 

The two of them stayed like that for some minutes, simply watching, simply breathing. 

When Qui-Gon heard little sniffles, he looked down in surprise to see tears welling up in Obi-Wan’s eyes. 

“It’s okay, little one. You’re safe.”

But Obi-Wan wasn’t sad at the moment. He was experiencing an emotion he had almost forgotten: happiness.

Then, as if it were in slow motion, a lone tear escaped from the corner of his eye, rolling down a cheek, the light of hyperspace catching it just so that it shined like a pearl. The tear twinkled and winked as it hung for dear life on the precipice of Obi-Wan’s chin before giving up, plunging and _clattering_ to the floor. 

Qui-Gon’s eyes followed the descent, and the Jedi Master made his fifth discovery about the child. 

A pink kyber crystal laid at Qui-Gon’s feet.

A kyber tear.

And if Qui-Gon didn’t believe his eyes the first time, more tears descended in a similar fashion, shining incandescently as they morphed into pink kyber crystals, singing of love and warmth. 

Now, he understood Obi-Wan’s purpose in that gilded cage. The child himself was the greatest treasure, and his existence was predicated upon the ability for him to produce these illustrious crystals, no matter the cost.

He remembered a particular fairy tale, hailing from Stewjon, one about Force blessed children who were the stars incarnate.

Star children.

**  
  
**

Obi-Wan’s training was a bit unorthodox. Padawans typically split their time equally between lessons at the Temple and lessons under the direct guidance of their Masters, but Obi-Wan’s situation called for more personal one-on-one training. Not only was Obi-Wan, who had actually been seven standard years old by the time Qui-Gon found him, behind in training, but his _certain ability_ had to be kept under tight wraps, according to Master Yoda. 

Most, like him at first, didn’t believe in many of the tales that came from Stewjon, and even if one did, star children were believed to have gone extinct, long before the Stewjoni people themselves did. 

Which made Obi-Wan’s origin and presence at Aleen even more mysterious. 

As a consequence of all of this, Qui-Gon learned many things about Obi-Wan and star children through the years as he trained the boy as his apprentice. 

He learned how eager the boy was to please, do good, and be good. 

He learned how that mentality and Obi-Wan’s own perceived failures sometimes resulted in...episodes—panic attacks, periods of not eating, and even some forms of self harm. Nothing too serious thankfully: scratching his skin and pulling at his hair mostly. 

He hated the now imprisoned Aleen King a little more every time he had to coax his padawan to just eat one more bite or he was forced to pry those trembling hands from bleeding arms. 

Despite these outbursts, which were usually reserved for when Obi-Wan knew he was alone or only when his Master was present, Qui-Gon learned that Obi-Wan was rather adept at concealing his emotions and retaining a calm and cool exterior. 

Fellow Jedi frequently commented on how poise and professional his padawan was; he could only nod and smile. 

Qui-Gon knew the façade only existed as a defense mechanism. Obi-Wan took the line, _There is no emotion, there is peace_ , to extremes, knowing that if he allowed emotions to overcome him even for a brief second, his secret would be revealed. 

There was a locked case in Qui-Gon’s quarters filled to the brim with Obi-Wan’s kyber tears, all meticulously collected and stored away from potentially too curious eyes. 

Over the years, he also learned of his padawan’s ardent compassion and undying loyalty. He learned of his love for tea and meditation. His fascination with snow, his interest in plants and flowers. 

In addition, through various ancient texts, Yoda’s sparse but wise quips, and sometimes simply through word of mouth, he accumulated information about the nature of star children, not only to satisfy his own curiosity but also gain a better understanding of who—what?—his padawan is. 

_A Force nexus_ was the conclusion. A phenomena in the Force where the power of the universe converged into one person, creating a wellspring of Force sensitivity, and in the case of star children, quite literally pulling star materials into them, allowing them the unique ability to cry kyber tears. 

The birth—creation?—of Obi-Wan Kenobi was a one in a million, billion, trillion occurrence. 

Then, Qui-Gon would be blessed to meet another child, brought into the Galaxy by another vergence in the Force. 

“Anakin Skywalker, meet Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan shook the young boy’s hand, unable to stop the small smile that worked its way across his lips. 

“Hi!” Anakin said cheerfully. “You’re a Jedi too? Pleased to meet you.” And then in the next second. “You have very pretty eyes.”

Obi-Wan thanked him and confirmed the fact that yes, he is a Jedi. He had gotten used to the compliment over the years, even though it still made him blush furiously on occasion. The blue-green of his eyes shone unnaturally, and many prodded him about it, asking and doubting that he was fully human. 

Obi-Wan would laugh and brush them off; eventually they would let the topic rest. 

The padawan followed his Master into the cockpit, leaving the boy alone to settle and stir up some conversation with Queen Amidala. 

“You sure have a knack for finding slave children to train into Jedi,” Obi-Wan joked as Qui-Gon sat down to pilot them out of Tatooine and into hyperspace.

Qui-Gon didn’t laugh, only wearily glanced at the younger man. “I believe him to be like you, in more ways than one.”

“Like me?”

Qui-Gon nodded. “Anakin is a manifestation of the Force itself, brought into life by its power. You saw his midichlorian count, and now you’ve met him. Don’t tell me, you can’t feel it.”

Obi-Wan sat down in the co-pilot seat and pondered his Master’s words. Anakin’s midichlorian count was off the charts, and his Force signature overwhelming strong, but turbulent and chaotic as well. 

“I feel it,” he agreed. 

“I believe that he is the Chosen One.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at this. “How can you be so sure, Master?”

He finally laughs at this. “I was sure about you.”

**  
**  


Naboo became a place of Obi-Wan’s nightmares. 

He watched Darth Maul’s bisected body plummet down the shaft, the red glow of his lightsaber fading and fading until out of sight. 

Hate and fear swirled inside of Obi-Wan as he rushed over towards his Master, falling to his knees and cradling Qui-Gon’s head in his lap. He felt their Force bond failing, only connected by a fraying string. He desperately tried to hold on.

“ _Master, please_ ,” he begged, his voice a horrible thing, pleading and begging for something he knew he couldn’t have. 

Qui-Gon looked at him with all the warmth in the Galaxy, and the man somehow had the nerve to smile. A thousand words were spoken in that moment, a thousand memories shared between Master and padawan. 

His Master stroked a careful thumb over his cheek, and Obi-Wan realized his eyes were welling with tears, the world around him becoming glassy. 

“Obi-Wan,” he whispered, the name like a prayer on his tongue. “Promise me you’ll train the boy.”

“Yes, Master.”

“He is the Chosen One. He will bring balance...train him.”

Qui-Gon’s hand fell, and so did Obi-Wan’s tears. All the warmth in the Galaxy was snuffed out in that moment. A terrifying sob tore itself from Obi-Wan’s chest, and he felt a pain he hadn’t experienced in more than a decade. 

Red kyber tears glittered upon the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter is mostly written but I won't post until I update my other unfinished fic. I am aiming for ten parts to this story, but really only have the bare bones of a plot, so let me know if there is anything you would like to see or what you think will happen next!! I love comments, and I am a slut for feedback.


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YO, this was supposed to be shorter than it was BUT I realized I needed to give more context to Anakin's and Obi-Wan's relationship before just diving in like that so I added like four pages to the beginning. Anyway, I think it came out nicely, and I hope you enjoy :)
> 
> Oh and THANK YOU for all the positive feedback. Literally nearing 200 kudos, and this is only my second part. *ugly crying*

Anakin didn’t truly realize how _strange_ his Master was until he was some years into his apprenticeship under the ever dutiful and carefully poised man. 

Sure, Obi-Wan’s eyes were a sight to behold, an image that would take him at least a couple months as a child to become used to. But eventually he did learn to recognize when he was staring, and his Master’s pink blush was also a useful indication that he had been looking for perhaps too long. 

The blue, green mix of eyes were entrancing, alluring, enthralling, _quite literally every single synonym that existed for the word “captivating,”_ but they weren’t what made him _strange_ per se. 

Obi-Wan Kenobi was too professional and a little too guarded. 

Even among the Jedi. 

The realization came when he was twelve, strolling through the Temple’s courtyards with other young padawans, Aayla Secura close by his side. She gently nudged him with her shoulder, smiling a little sheepishly. 

“So kind of you to actually show up. The teachers were thinking that you were never gonna come around here again.”

Anakin had frowned and questioned her. She shrugged, tossing one blue lekku over a shoulder. 

“We’re always doing lessons with the teachers, and you’re always off who-knows-where with Master Kenobi. I heard some Knights saying that Master Kenobi was going to make you a recluse just like he is.”

She laughed briefly before switching the topic.

Anakin thought about what Aayla said for the rest of the day. 

At the time, he hadn’t thought of his Master as a recluse, but then he made some thoughtful connections. He rarely saw Obi-Wan interacting with any other Jedi that weren’t Master Yoda or Master Windu. He never went out for “fun,” always preferring to stay in his quarters with their free time, meditating or sipping a steaming cup of tea while reading. 

He _rarely_ showed a lick of emotion. He would occasionally exhibit some amusement if Anakin did something silly or frustration if he was a little too stubborn, but nothing ever extreme. His Master didn’t ever raise his voice in anger, and he had only seen the man sad once—the night after Master Jinn’s funeral. 

He had lingered outside Obi-Wan’s room, nervous and unsure. He could hear the man crying distinctly, ugly little hitched sobs that sounded painful. Even at nine standard years old, he had recognized the unique relationship between Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, and he had wanted to be consoling, but when the crying eventually broke off, abrupt and sharp, he turned back around and trudged back to his own bed, defeated. 

Anakin had always thought that padawans spent most of their time with their Masters, but he learned it was just him. Obi-Wan had opted Anakin out of the Temple-sanctioned lessons, and Anakin couldn’t fathom why.

His Master was strange indeed. 

Ultimately, Anakin asked. 

Obi-Wan blinked owlishly at the then-twelve-year-old, caught slightly off guard. He lowered his book into his lap as he carefully considered his words. 

“I’ve always told you were special, Anakin, correct?”

The boy nodded. “Some people here call me the ‘Chosen One,’ Master. Is that what you mean?”

“Well, yes.” Obi-Wan cleared his throat. “All that means is that you have a great responsibility one day, and because of this, I thought it would be better for you to have more personal training. I believe you deserve full, undivided attention.”

Anakin pouted. “I want to do more training with the teachers.”

Obi-Wan pursed his lips at that. “How come, little one?”

“I don’t want to become a recluse like you,” Anakin answered, perhaps a little too truthfully. 

Uncharacteristically, the Jedi Master laughed, a soft, cheerful sound that almost shocked the young padawan. 

“Where did you learn that?”

Anakin huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Does it matter?”

Obi-Wan chuckled softly again. “I’m sure we can compromise. It would be good for you to start sparing with your peers.” He ruffled Anakin’s sandy blonde curls before teasingly warning, “They won’t go easy on you.”

They didn’t go easy on him, but Anakin, even now as a teenager, loved a good challenge. 

He was ruthless and full of the pulsating energy of the Force. In addition, Obi-Wan had trained him well. He was unbeatable. 

Well, almost. 

One day, Obi-Wan found him in the training salle, meticulously and obsessively moving through the katas, but he was shaking with anger and humiliation; he couldn’t hold the poses correctly, and in fury, he launched his lightsaber across the room. 

Sweating and panting, he collapsed in a heap as his Master stood before him, hands neatly folded. 

Anakin was fifteen now, and it was beginning to frustrate him how put together his Master always was. He rolled his eyes before Obi-Wan even opened his mouth, knowing that a lecture was awaiting him. 

“When you let emotions cloud your mind, you lose sight of what’s important, Anakin,” Obi-Wan chastised, reaching out his hand and using the Force to fetch the padawan’s discarded lightsaber. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, but this weapon is your life. You must take care of it.”

Anakin snatched his saber back, not in the mood to listen to his Master drone on and on. 

“I heard what happened. You’re not going to win every fight or sparring match, young one. You should use this opportunity as a moment for growth, not a moment to punish yourself. Figure out where you went wrong and what you can improve.”

“Nothing went _wrong_ , Master,” Anakin seethed, stumbling to his feet, hating how Obi-Wan looked down at him in pity. “I was beating him, and everyone knew it. He _cheated_.”

The Jedi Master raised one eyebrow at this. “He subdued you, Anakin.”

“He was only able to do that because he distracted me! He called me a _dirty slave_ in front of everyone!” The padawan didn’t realize how close he had gotten to his Master until he was almost caught in those wide crystalline eyes.

He ripped his gaze away with a growl. 

“They are just words, Anakin. You cannot allow them to hurt you. The Jedi Code—”

“You _don’t_ understand, Master. They don’t understand. Nobody understands.”

It was like Obi-Wan deflated, shoulder slumping and expression softening. Anakin felt sick. He hated that look on Obi-Wan’s face. 

The ugly brand of being a slave was something that would follow him for the rest of his life. It didn’t matter how “special” Obi-Wan claimed he was. It didn’t matter that he was the prophesized “Chosen One.” He had come into this world as a slave; it was a title that would stay with him until death. 

“Follow me,” his Master said simply, placing a gentle hand on his padawan’s shoulder and guiding him out of the training salle and outside into the courtyard. 

They sat down on one of the stone benches overlooking a patch of tall and swaying orchids. The older man didn’t say anything for a long while, hands perched on his knees as he took in the sight before him. 

Just as Anakin was about to become agitated once more, Obi-Wan spoke. 

“Y-You’re right,” he said slowly. “No one will ever understand what you’ve been through, and I shouldn’t...tell you how to, uh, feel.”

His Master occasionally had periods like this, where words were hard for him, almost as if the sounds got stuck in his throat and he didn’t know how to form his mouth to fit the words. It was always jarring, such a sharp contrast to his usual smooth and unbothered Coruscanti accent. 

Obi-Wan cleared his throat, tips of his ears beginning to tinge red. “Um, I’ve mentioned this before, but _my_ Master—Qui-Gon—made me promise him that I’d train you. You know this.”

Anakin nodded, not sure how any of that was relevant. “He wanted you to train me because I was supposed to bring balance to the Force.”

“Well, that’s partly true.”

His Master turned towards him, and Anakin wasn’t sure if it was the sunlight, but Obi-Wan’s eyes appeared glassy, like smooth, reflective mirrors. For a horrifying moment, he thought the man was going to cry. He rarely talked about Master Jinn; Anakin knew it was a sensitive subject. 

Obi-Wan didn’t cry, just gave a sad little smile before continuing. 

“He told me that we were similar.”

Anakin scoffed at this, causing his Master to let out a little, wet laugh. 

“Believe me, I didn’t quite see it at first as well, but you see...I-I was a slave as well, and while your experiences, I assume, have been different from mine, he thought—”

“ _What_?”

Obi-Wan bit his lip. “He thought—”

“Wait, _what?_ ” he reiterated. “Why did you never tell me? I feel like this is something you should have told me.”

His Master never talked about his past. Anakin was always led to believe that he was like most Jedi, brought to the temple when he was six months or younger and raised in the crèche, and the Order was all he had known. 

“My past, Anakin, is not important anymore. I’ve put it behind me, and sometimes I forget that it took me _a long time_ to get there. Qui-Gon thought I could relate to you, and I can to a certain extent I suppose. My time as a slave effected how I thought about myself and my self-worth. I thought I was di—”

Obi-Wan stopped himself short, realizing he must have said too much before shifting gears. “The point is that we’re free, dear one. You’re _free._ Nothing will ever change that, and in time, you will learn that.”

He looked up at Obi-Wan, attempting to discern the flurry of emotions that swam in those eyes, but with one blink, the man's expression was back to normal, relaxed and emotionless. 

Anakin learned a lot about his Master that day. 

  
  


When the Clone Wars broke out just as he turned nineteen, he would eventually learn much more. 

  
  


Things began to spin inexplicably out of control when the pilot notified him that the navicomputer had been damaged, and that their previously imputed coordinates had been scrambled. 

Obi-Wan stared at the clone, Axe, in disbelief. The _Negotiator_ lurched to the side once more as it continued to receive heavy fire from the approaching and aggressive Separatist fleet. They were outnumbered, and all around them alarms and warning indicators were flashing and wailing, exhibiting how little more assault they could bear before they would be forced to abandon ship. 

They needed to retreat and retreat now. 

“Well, input them again.”

“General, the input sensors are not responding. It’s beyond repair. What should we do?”

Obi-Wan cursed. This was not supposed to be happening. _How could they have been intercepted so easily by the Separatists, especially without any forewarning?_

He commed Anakin and Ahsoka. “Return immediately. Notify your squadron that we are in retreat.” 

The response was immediate, and Anakin’s loud and angry voice was apparent even through the comlink. “No way, Obi-Wan. Snips and I can handle this. We’ll distract the flagship and force them to change priorities.” 

Ahsoka voiced her assent, and Obi-Wan was even closer to tearing out his hair. His former padawan was stubborn enough, and when the two of them weren’t clashing on their own, Anakin’s padawan only exacerbated his stubbornness. 

“We are outnumbered, and we have accumulated too much damage. Your squadron is not enough to get us out of this mess. Pull back now.”

“But—”

“That’s an _order_.”

Only static could be heard over the comlink for a moment too long before defeatedly, the Jedi Knight relented, “Yes, Master.” His voice was terse and clipped; Obi-Wan knew that Anakin would be questioning his decision for days. Even as a Knight, Anakin sometimes struggled seeing the bigger picture, his own success clouding his judgement. 

The Jedi Master turned back to Axe. The bridge was alight with the blasts and firefights that could be viewed through the expansive windows of the bridge. It was absolute mayhem. 

“Is the hyperdrive still operating?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Get this ship turned around, and prepare to travel through hyperspace. Let’s hope that we end up in a friendly system where we will be able to recuperate and regroup.”

Axe nodded and set to work in building up the hyperdrive.

For how simple their original mission was, things sure did go south exponentially quick. The 501st had joined the 212th on the _Negotiator_ to conduct simple reconnaissance and scouting in the Lasan system. It had been a boring few weeks as they surveyed for Separatist presence, and had been set to return back to the Galactic Core to rendezvous with Master Fitso. 

However, as they were about to exit the Lasan system, the Separatists had ambushed them with overwhelming force, and now not only was the navicomputer damaged, their entire transmission and receiver system was nonfunctioning. 

Obi-Wan once again attempted to contact the Temple at Coruscant, but the holoprojector showed no indication of detecting any signal. They were cornered, and didn’t even have the mechanism to notify the Council of their increasingly worrisome predicament. 

“General,” Cody greeted as he walked on the bridge, helmet tucked under his arm. He was panting and sweat was beading at his hairline. “General Skywalker, Commander Tano, and the rest of blue squadron have landed back in the hangar.”

Obi-Wan glanced back towards Axe, who quickly met his gaze. “I’m already on it, sir,” and suddenly they were hurtling through hyperspace into unknown territory. 

As expected, Anakin had a mouthful to say when he stormed onto the bridge, Ahsoka hot on his heels. 

Years spent with the fiery man has taught the Jedi Master to hold his breath and allow Anakin to have his say. Anakin always struggled to follow his lead. When he was a padawan, it was much easier to shepherd him in line, but if possible Knighthood had him more defiant, allowing him the independence and rank to toe the line more. 

His dark golden curls were disheveled, and his eyes still wild as he slowly came down from the adrenaline rush of battle. 

Obi-Wan crossed his arms over his chest as Anakin finally finished. “The retreat was inevitable. The navicomputer and the transmission system are both damaged. We couldn’t risk any damage to the hyperdrive or else we would be stranded.”

Anakin appeared to have more to say, but thankfully, Ahsoka cut him off. “The navicomputer was damaged? We’re still going to meet up with Master Fitso though, correct?”

Cody shook his head. “Original coordinates were wiped, and no other coordinates were able to be imputed, so we quite literally have no idea of our destination.”

“What’s our plan then?”

Of course, all eyes turned to the Jedi Master who sighed, wishing for a warm cup of tea to soothe away his looming headache. 

“We should be coming out of hyperspace any second. Once, we are able to distinguish where we are, hopefully we can send some teams out to nearby planets for supplies. According to Axe, the navicomputer is beyond repair and most likely needs to be replaced. In the meantime, perhaps we can fix the transmission system, so we can debrief the Council on our situation.”

“I’ll get some men working on it as soon as possible, General,” Rex responded. 

“Great, so if there is nothing else to discuss then—”

Abruptly, the ship reemerged into real space, the glowly lines of hyperspace disappearing in a blink of the eye, only to be replaced with...colors, an entire litany of cloudy, pale blues, oranges, yellows, and pinks. 

The bridge had gone silent in astonishment. “A nebula,” Ahsoka breathed in disbelief. 

A nebula, indeed. Swirling clouds of dust and interstellar gas encompassed them all around, amorphous and almost hypnotizing. It was beautiful and terrifying. 

“This is not good,” Anakin commented, breaking the spell. 

“What do you mean, Skyguy?! This is awesome!”

He huffed. “Yeah, it sure looks cool, but nebulas are dangerous. It’s almost impossible to tell where we are going, and nebulae are always hiding something.”

“Anakin is right, little one,” Obi-Wan agreed, almost unable to tear his eyes from the mix of colors. “We must exercise extreme caution.”

Cody pulled up a star chart, eyes quickly scanning to pinpoint their mysterious location. “It seems we are in the Kathol sector of the Outer Rim, more specifically, we have found ourselves in the Kathol Rift.” He looked up. “I have studied lots of star charts and systems, but I have never heard of the Kathol Rift.”

Kathol Rift was unknown to Obi-Wan as well, but it seemed that it sparked some recollection in Togruta girl. 

“That does sound familiar,” she remarked, tapping her chin in concentration. “I remember Master Yoda teaching something about it...something about the Force and a nexus point?” She smiled sheepishly. “I wasn’t paying too much attention honestly.”

Anakin rested a palm on his padawan’s shoulder. “We’ll figure it out. Ahsoka will follow me to storage to see if there are any more detailed star charts of this Rift that will aid our navigation. The sooner we get out of here, the better. I have a bad feeling about this place.”

Anakin was more than right. A certain level of unease had washed over him, and goosebumps were peppering his pale and freckled skin. He dismissed Ahsoka and Anakin, telling them to comm him as soon as they found anything. Rex was dismissed as well to go work on the receiver and transmitter system. 

“Cody, are there any contacts? Anything to give us some idea where we are heading?”

His commander walked over to the radar system and grimaced as he fiddled with the knobs and switches. “There’s too much noise and not enough gain. The nebula is distorting everything, and nothing can be deciphered.”

Obi-Wan tried to hide his obvious dismay. The Jedi Master almost wished they had ended up in an unfriendly system as opposed to the uncertainty that this nebula offered. There was little they could do besides sit and wait. 

A rather violent shiver racked down his spine brought on by a sharp drop in temperature. _Had their coolant system been damaged as well?_ Obi-Wan opened his mouth to ask when suddenly smoke—or was it fog?—began to seep through the doors of the bridge, crawling rather quickly over the floor and across their feet. 

“ _What_ is that?” the Jedi Master gasped, looking over the alarms but seeing that none of them were activated. 

Cody looked up, eyebrows raised. The other clone troopers at their battle stations looked equally perplexed. Obi-Wan gestured emphatically to the fog. “Is the coolant system malfunctioning? Is this an overflow?”

“Ship diagnostics show that the coolant system is operating at its full capacity. Sir, are you alright?”

“I’m perfectly fine,” Obi-Wan almost snapped, walking towards the doors which refused to budge open. “What’s going on? Where is this leak coming from?”

_And why was no one else as worried about this as him?_

Cody approached the Jedi Master slowly. “General, there is no leak.”

Obi-Wan took in a steadying breath, not wanting to erupt in anger at his close friend. He closed his eyes for a brief moment and when he found calm, opened them again. 

However, he was no longer looking into the face of his commander with his kind and deep brown eyes. 

“Qui-Gon?” he whispered in disbelief. His Master stood before him, just as tall and imposing as Obi-Wan remembered, dressed in his Jedi robes and in perfect health. His brown hair, peppered with gray, was half tied back, and he smiled down on Obi-Wan. “How...what? Is this some Force vision?”

Qui-Gon remained perfectly poised like a statue, and the silence was excruciating. After all these years, he had almost forgotten the sound of his Master’s voice, and he suddenly desperately craved to hear that reassuring and deep sound. 

“Master, please say something,” Obi-Wan pleaded. 

There was another tortuous moment, but then Qui-Gon was opening his mouth and then—a bleeding red saber was protruding from his gut, and his Master was crying out in pain, eyes wide with fear and death. 

Obi-Wan staggered back as Qui-Gon’s body sagged to the floor, lifeless. Darth Maul stood there in his place, completely intact and smirking. 

“No!” Obi-Wan yelled. _This was an impossible._ He had killed Maul, had watched his bisected body plummet down the shaft at Naboo more than a decade ago.

Maul twirled the double bladed lightsaber, and Obi-Wan fumbled for his own, paling when he realized it was not clipped to his side. _It was just there a moment ago!_

“Kenobi,” the Zabrak growled. “Oh, how I have dreamed about this day.”

“H-How?” he stuttered, pressed up against the bridge’s doorway. He nervously glanced around, seeking help, but the bridge was empty. Cody and all the other clone troopers had vanished. His trembling fingers attempted to comm Anakin and Ahsoka, but they didn’t respond. 

He was all alone and defenseless, facing one of his worst nightmares. 

Maul stalked forward, a predator confident that it had caught its prey. With every step he took, it seemed that he grew in size until he was impossibly large, dwarfing the Jedi Master. 

“I killed you.”

Darth’s smirk transformed into a wide grin. “Yes, you did,” he said as he leaned down, burning red saber inching closer and closer to Obi-Wan’s vulnerable neck. He couldn’t run, he couldn’t hide. It was like ice had seeped into his veins, paralyzing him. 

And when he thought Maul would strike him down, the Dathomirian instead erupted into a cluster of a million tiny black spiders that swarmed Obi-Wan, crawling over his chest, under his clothes, around his neck and face. He attempted to cry out but found himself choking and staggering as the spiders consumed him. 

He collapsed, and his mind went blank.

  
  
  


Anakin awoke with a start, hand clutching at his chest as his heart raced. His mother’s pained scream echoed in his mind, and it felt as if his mind might split in two. 

“Master?” a small voice asked, and Anakin flinched, unaware of his surroundings. _Where was he?_

_Blood. Bones. Spiders._

The images flashed before him before he was able to focus his gaze on his padawan. Ahsoka’s wide blue eyes came into view, and he relaxed at the sight of her. Her hand was firmly gripping his shoulder, almost too tight. 

“Master, it’s okay,” she whispered. “It’s over, I think.”

They were in the medbay aboard the _Negotiator_ , drifting somewhere in the Kathol Rift. They were _not_ on Tatooine, and he was _not_ watching the Tusken Raiders brutally torture his mother. 

“Ahsoka,” he said, just to make sure it was all real, and his padawan squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. 

“It’s okay,” she reiterated. 

“What the hell happened?”

“We were hoping the three of you could tell us that, General Skywalker,” Rex’s voice spoke up, startling Anakin. He looked over Ahsoka’s shoulder at his second-in-command who was leaning by the door. Kix and Bones were present as well, and Cody was...by another bed filled with another still form. 

“Obi-Wan?” he worridely asked, trying to get a better look at his Master. 

Obi-Wan stirred and groaned before sitting up himself. “I’m awake, just feel like my mind has been reduced to mush.”

“I feel the same, Master Kenobi,” Ashoka said, finally letting go of Anakin to sit back down on the third bed. “This is even worse than experiencing Skyguy’s awful piloting.”

Anakin would have been insulted if he had the energy and wasn’t so incredibly confused. “Wait, did you guys see what I saw?”

Ahsoka and Obi-Wan shrugged and shook their heads. 

“All of you were pretty out of it, saying weird things and acting strange,” Cody revealed, his usually stoic face showcased how truly uneasy he was. 

“Like what?” Ahsoka asked. 

Cody swallowed and searched for the appropriate words. “General Kenobi called me ‘Qui-Gon,’ and then he began to panic.” The Commander looked at the Jedi Master. “It was like you weren’t present anymore. I tried talking to you, but you didn’t respond, and then you eventually passed out.” 

Obi-Wan was deathly pale as he heard the words, and Anakin was equally worried. His master rarely talked about his own former Master, even when Anakin pried. 

“I found the two of you in similar states in the storage area. I tried calming you both down, but it was near impossible. For a second, I thought you might hurt each other or yourselves,” Rex added. 

It was quiet for a painful moment as the words settled in. 

“Hallucinations,” Obi-Wan confirmed when no one else dared to point out the obvious. “But how and why only us three?”

“Must have something to do with us being Force sensitive. That’s the obvious answer,” Anakin said. “As to why...maybe it has to do with this Rift? Ahsoka said something about this being a Force nexus point, but that could mean lots of things.”

Obi-Wan turned towards Cody. “Have we made progress in navigating out of this area?”

The clone shifted from side to side. “Yes and no,” he began slowly. “We’re no longer in the midst of the nebula, but we have assumed we are now within its center.”

“What leads you to believe that?”

“There’s a planet, unmarked and unnamed on all of our charts. Scans reveal that the planet shows indications of harboring life. We’ve attempted to make contact, but we have found no returning signal. They may not have developed technology.”

_That surely was a development._

“The transmission and receiver system was fixed?”

“Yes, sir, but we are unable to contact Coruscant from our current location.”

Obi-Wan sighed, swinging his legs off the bed and standing up. He swayed unsteadily for a terrifying moment, and Anakin watched Cody tense, posed to catch him if necessary, but then the Jedi Master was steadying himself, clearing his throat, and smoothing his wrinkled robes.

“Well, we can’t sit around all day. Rex, prepare the gunships. Cody, assemble two teams. We’re making a trip.”

  
  
  


“This is a rock,” Ahsoka grumbled, spirits plummeting, as the gunship slowly descended. “Whatever life the scans pick up was probably something insignificant as a worm.”

Anakin didn’t even try to refute. The sad place couldn’t even be called a _moon_ at the very least; there was nothing for it to orbit around. Cody was right though. This place—this floating rock—seemed to be the center of the nebula, the blues and pinks clearing for a brief respite to reveal a dark, dull, and small planet. 

The gunship eventually landed where the energy scans shined the brightest, on the precipice of a steep cliff. 

Everyone clamored out onto harsh and barren terrain. “This doesn’t look promising,” Anakin remarked dreadfully, staring at the wasteland. It was still and silent except for the whirl of the gunship engines still powering down. Gray dust swirled at their feet, and the belief that life, particularly sentient life, could exist here dissolved. 

Obi-Wan motioned them forward, wrapping his cloak around his frame tighter. There was an awful chill, and for a second time that day, Anakin felt the cold creep of trepidation. The Force was humming, but it was inscrutable. The Jedi Knight could not know if he should proceed or retreat. 

“There is a cave system not too far from here. If there is anyone who can help us, they certainly do not live above ground.”

Obi-Wan seemed resolute on moving forward.

“Caves?” Ahsoka grimaced as they trudged forward, accompanied by Rex, Cody, and a dozen others. They all gripped their blaster rifles tightly. Even non-Force sensitives weren’t immune to the anxiety and unease of the place. “We might find something that shouldn’t be found.” 

Nobody wanted to ponder that possibility. 

The opening to the cave system loomed before them. Anakin blinked rapidly, clearing his vision, because for a moment, it seemed as if the darkness of the cavern spiraled and churned as if it were a black hole, sucking them into its gravitational orbit and snuffing them out of existence. 

“General Skywalker, do you feel that pull?” Rex weakly asked. 

Anakin blinked again, trying to erase images of black tendrils reaching out and curling around his ankles and wrists like chains. “I do.”

The three Jedi ignited their lightsabers and the clones flicked on their weapon-mounted lights as they all marched through and into the darkness. However, the light did little to chase away the darkness, it was all encompassing, and weighed on them. The pressure was apparent, limbs became heavy and shoulders tensed. 

At one point in their route, the cave narrowed significantly until the cave’s icy, rocky walls pressed against their shoulders. The ceiling hung low as well, and Anakin and the clones had to duck their heads. 

He usually didn’t suffer from claustrophobia and had definitely been in tight spaces such as these before, but the pull of the Force was suffocating. 

He could hear the soft tremble of Ahsoka’s breathing, heavy and stuttering, and briefly worried for his padawan until Obi-Wan, who had been leading the way, halted. 

“Please don’t tell me it’s a dead end,” Anakin griped. 

Ahsoka moved to her tip-toes, peering over her Grand Master’s shoulder. 

“It’s not,” she whispered. 

“It’s a split,” Obi-Wan mumbled. 

_Even worse._

Obi-Wan didn’t allow the new predicament to faze him. His voice was even and confident. It was always so stupidly calm. “Ahsoka, Anakin, and Rex take right. Cody and I will take left. Even groups.”

Anakin wanted to argue, but then his Master was trudging forward, and Ahsoka was peering behind herself at him, the green glow of her saber revealing her discomfort. 

“I got your back, Snips,” he encouraged, and they set off in the opposite direction. 

The farther they traversed, the more the Force hummed until it was practically singing. Eventually, the cave opened up, and he could feel the relief that seeped through his Force bond with his padawan. 

The cave opened up into a large, circular room, and they could tell by...the _thousands_ of kyber crystals embedded into the arched ceiling. 

“What are those?” a clone asked in astonishment. 

Ahsoka stepped forward, almost hypnotized by the thrum of Force energy. Anakin was equally as captivated. 

“Kyber crystals,” his padawan answered. “They’re Force attuned crystals that the Jedi use to power our lightsabers, but I thought that all the known kyber crystal deposits are guarded.”

“They are,” Anakin replied. “I don’t think the Order knows of this place.”

From the other side of the room, Anakin could see Obi-Wan, Cody, and two other clones emerge, all equally surprised about this discovery. 

The kyber crystals sparkled like the stars in the inky black rock, illuminating the room, and it wasn’t just a larger cave. The walls were smooth and polished, and the floor carved with intricate designs and a language completely foreign to the Jedi Knight. 

“A temple,” Obi-Wan’s voice echoed from across the room. “That’s promising. It’s kept in a nice condition. That should mean someone is nearby to care for it.”

It was promising, and encouraged Anakin after dealing with the entire strangeness of this day. 

Little did he know, it was about to become _much stranger_. 

Obi-Wan stepped towards the center of the temple, and then suddenly there was a deep rumbling and trembling, and the ground around his Master’s feet was _caving in._

He heard himself yell, and saw Cody reach out desperately, panic marring his features, but it was too late, and the ground swallowed Obi-Wan up with a _splash._

Everyone rushed forward in a frenzy, and Anakin was able to see Cody reach down into pitch-black waters, hand latching onto something and yanking it out, but stumbling from the murky black water, a form emerged, a form distinctly no longer Obi-Wan. It was a _child_ , soaked to the bone, trembling and reeking of terror, with wide eyes gleaming like kybers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \+ huge shoutout to @SavageOmens for inspiring me to write the beginning scenes to this chapter
> 
> what did you guys think???? it's a lot of Force mumbo jumbo, but I wanted to write a padawan Obi-Wan/ Master Anakin fic, and I decided I needed some convoluted away to de age him lol. He's only going to be a kid for a bit of the story obvi (peep the rating). Imma up his age a little more eventually (some more Force mumbo jumbo), but it still will be padawan Obi-Wan :)))
> 
> what do you think will happen next/what do you want to see??? comment down below!


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, 
> 
> here is the next part. I hope you all enjoy it. some parts were easy to write, other parts didn't quite come how I wanted, but I hope it is still good :)

“He appears to be around four standard years old,” Kix commented, slipping the IV needle into the delicate, bony hand of the child—of  _ Obi-Wan. _ “But he’s so malnourished and dehydrated, the estimation is hardly accurate.”

Running a trembling hand through his hair, Anakin forced himself to tear his eyes away from his now unconscious and now  _ de-aged _ Master. 

“This is too fucking weird,” Anakin muttered under his breath. 

Cody nodded slowly in agreement. The Commander has had the same dumbstruck expression on his face ever since he pulled Obi-Wan from those black waters and found himself staring into familiar eyes within an unfamiliar face. The child had blinked slowly at the man before promptly passing out in his arms, and Cody, clueless, awkwardly passed the limp body to Ahsoka, who looked like the only who wasn’t about to lose their mind. 

In fact, Ahsoka seemed to be taking this strange situation with a certain level of grace and professionalism that fully-grown Obi-Wan would have been proud of. She patted Anakin on the shoulder, throwing him a reassuring smile. 

“How can you be so calm in a situation like this?” Anakin asked, shaking his head in confusion. “I wouldn’t have even believed  _ that  _ was Obi-Wan if...if—”

“If he didn’t have the same, uncanny eyes?”

“Yes,” Anakin admitted truthfully.  _ That  _ and if he hadn’t become so accustomed to Obi-Wan’s Force signature.

Ahsoka shrugged. “Well, this certainly ranks the highest on weird things I’ve been exposed to during this war, but I like children! Even if said child is my former Grand Master and even if said child is—.” She gestured emphatically to Obi-Wan, momentarily lost for words and prior enthusiasm flagging slightly. “In such a condition,” she finished sadly. 

Anakin gulped and looked back at Obi-Wan. “A condition” was putting it lightly. His former Master was  _ abused _ , and the signs were so painstakingly obvious. 

He had seen parts of Obi-Wan’s naked body before, and the abundance of scars were startling. Not only the abundance, but also the manner of the scars—systematic slashes and cuts that had clearly been doled out as punishments, not haphazardly acquired in the heat of battle. 

Ever since he was fifteen and his Master had disclosed his past as a slave, Anakin had been nosy, prodding Obi-Wan with a barrage of questions, all of which Obi-Wan answered vaguely, eliciting more questions, or refused to answer at all. 

Obi-Wan had claimed that he had put his past behind him, suggesting that he had made peace with it, but Anakin quickly came to understand that his Master had packed those gruesome years away in his mind and had chosen to forget about them. 

And now, Anakin could see with his own eyes the brutality of those years. He saw it in the sunken cheeks, the concavity of his stomach, the welts on the soles of his feet, and the bruises covering almost every inch of pale skin. 

His insides churned uncomfortably at the picture. 

“What happened to him?” Ahsoka breathlessly asked, walking over to Obi-Wan’s bedside, and brushing a matted lock of hair from his cheek. 

He knew the question wasn’t rhetorical, and he felt the heavy gaze of everyone in the room, especially Cody’s, who had always been fiercely protective of his self-sacrificing General.

Anakin opened and closed his mouth with a snap. He wasn’t sure if it was his place to share this carefully guarded aspect of Obi-Wan’s past. Well, he  _ knew _ it wasn’t his place, but with Obi-Wan like this, perhaps it was better to not leave everyone in the dark, so they could better prepare themselves for when the child awoke.

“ _ Force _ ,” he cursed. “All I know is that before Obi-Wan was taken to the Temple, he had been—uh—enslaved. He didn’t— _ doesn’t _ —like to share details about it.”

All of the air vanished from the room, and Anakin was really trying not to get sick at the moment, feeling like he had betrayed his Master. If,  _ when  _ they reversed whatever happened to Obi-Wan, Anakin hoped he would be forgiving. 

“A slave?” Cody echoed hollowly, and the Jedi Knight did his best to conceal his flinch. 

He  _ hated  _ the word, and it brought back so many unpleasant memories from Tatooine. Ahsoka glanced wearily at him, knowing his past and his sensitivity to such a subject. 

“Yes—”

At that moment, all of their comms buzzed. “We’ve been able to make contact with Coruscant, General. The Council is awaiting your presence,” Rex’s staticy voice filtered through. 

Anakin glanced at Kik, who gave him a thumbs up. “I’ll watch over him.”

Unsettled by the prospect of leaving his vulnerable former Master alone, Anakin reluctantly departed from the medical bay, Cody and Ahsoka following close behind. 

They found Rex in the bridge with the holoprojector finally functioning properly, and a concerned and agitated Mace Windu alongside Master Yoda. 

“Skywalker,” Mace’s blue hologram coldly greeted. “You’ve missed your rendezvous with Master Fitso, and your battalion and Master Kenobi’s have been MIA for almost  _ half  _ a day. You’ve better have a real good explanation, and anyways, where the hell is Master Kenobi? He couldn’t bother to show up?”

Mace was probably the last person in the Galaxy that Anakin wanted to speak with; the Jedi Master  _ always  _ got on his nerves. 

“ _ Masters _ ,” Anakin greeted through his teeth. “We’ve run into a number of problems since departing the Lasan system. Our navicomputer was damaged in a Separatist ambush, and we unexpectedly found ourselves in the Kathol Rift with no means of being able to change our route back to Coruscant.” 

Master Yoda hummed mysteriously. “Filled with danger, the Kathol Rift is. Unexplained phenomena and perplexing layout.”

“Yes, we have discovered for ourselves how strange this place is, Master Yoda, which leads me to Master Windu’s earlier point. Master Kenobi has been... _ compromised. _ ”

Master Windu narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “You’re gonna have to be a little more specific than that, Skywalker.”

Anakin glanced around the bridge, thankful that it was empty except for Ahsoka, Cody, Rex, and him. He didn’t need the 501st and 212th knowing that General Kenobi had been reverted to his kid-self, at least not yet anyways. 

“We had stumbled across an abandoned Temple, and Obi-Wan was mysteriously turned in his four year old self?” the Jedi Knight posed as a question, the words sounding so disbelieving even to him. Even Ahsoka grimaced. 

“Skywalker, I’m in no mood for jokes right now.”

“It’s not a joke, Master Windu,” Ahsoka commented, scratching the back of her neck. 

“ _ What?!” _

“He fell into a pit of some kind of magical fluid, honestly we are not sure, and when we pulled him out, he was a child.” 

Anakin doesn’t believe he’s ever seen Master Yoda look so concerned, and Master Windu appeared as if he had lots to say, but voice uncharacteristically soft, he asked, “Is he awake currently? How is he faring?

Thankfully at that moment, Cody chose to speak up because Anakin didn’t know if he had the voice to speak of Obi-Wan’s current state. 

“He is currently unconscious, but our medic suspects that he will wake at any moment. He’s malnourished and dehydrated, so he is being fed IV fluid, and when he comes to, we hope to make more of an effort to care to his... wounds.”

Mace looked down at Yoda, and Anakin suspected that there were a thousand unspoken words in that gaze. Anakin wasn’t certain who in the Temple knew of Obi-Wan’s past, but if anyone had any idea it would be Master Yoda. 

“Dangerous it is, to discuss this sensitive topic. Always exists, a chance that our communications are monitored or can be intercepted. Must not be known, the vulnerability of Obi-Wan.”

“Of course, Master.”

Anakin’s comm buzzed again, and he did his best to ignore it. 

“Listen, Skywalker. There is still a lot you don’t know about Obi-Wan’s past, and all I’ll say is that it’s highly  _ delicate. _ Work on getting Obi-Wan back to normal. If you reverted him back to age four, there must be a way to undo it. We need to get you all back to Coruscant ASAP. We’ll coordinate with your navigators on our end. In the meantime,  _ don’t let Obi-Wan out of your sight, and please be gentle.” _

The Jedi Knight dumbly nodded. He didn’t think he had ever heard Mace say “please” before. That might have been even more strange than kid Obi-Wan. 

Nonetheless, Mace’s allusions to even more secretive facets of Obi-Wan’s past had his mind reeling and him itching to rush back to the medbay. 

“May the Force be with you,” Anakin said, and the hologram vanished. 

“Well that certainly raised a lot of questions,” Ahsoka mumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. “How do you suppose we turn little Obi-Wan back into big Obi-Wan?”

“I think there is only one logical course of action,” Rex answered, drumming his fingers on the edge of the holoprojector. “We have to take him back to that temple.”

Cody scoffed. “And dump him back in that abyss? That’s one way to scare a child shitless.”

Anakin didn’t like that prospect either, but it was the only one that made sense. “I think Rex is right,” he said solemnly. “Whatever is in that temple got us in this situation in the first place. We have to hope it will get us out.”

Ahsoka laughed unhumorously. “Let’s pray that we don’t end up with infant Obi-Wan this time around. I think Master Windu would blow a fuse.”

Anakin’s comm buzzed insistently again, and this time he answered. 

It was Kix, and he sounded off. 

“Um, General Skywalker. We have a problem down here.”

Anakin was already rushing down to medbay before the medic could even finish his sentence.  _ Shit, did Obi-Wan already wake up?  _

“Stay put, I’m on my way,” he answered, but as he rounded the corner, flanked by Ahsoka, Cody, and Rex, he halted abruptly, coming face to face with Kix, who looked deathly pale and was panting as if he were out of breath. 

“Kix, what the hell are you doing here?” After another moment, “Where the hell is Obi-Wan? Is he still in medbay?”

Kix sucked in a lungful of air, wiping at the sweat beading at his hairline. “Uh, that is the problem, sir. I swear I only turned around for one second, but when I turned back around, he was  _ just gone.” _

“Gone?” Ahsoka repeated incredulously as Anakin processed the words. “You’ve lost him?”

Kik winced but made no move to correct the Jedi padawan as Mace’s words rang ominously in Anakin’s ears,  _ Don’t let Obi-Wan out of your sight.  _ Rage towards the clone surged like a flood through him, but it was quickly dampened by anxiety and worry. 

“We should send out an alarm,” Rex suggested, but Anakin was already waving him off. “We can’t have all of the 501st and 212th knowing about this,” he explained as he closed his eyes and reached with the Force, searching for that familiar bright signature. 

Everything around him faded to oblivion and like a light held to the darkness, he was able to discern the luminous Force signature of his former Master. It was strange that their prior Force bond had essentially dissipated within a blink of an eye, leaving a wide cavern where the bond used to shine and hold bright, but the pull of Obi-Wan was still strong and called to him like a beacon. 

When they found him unfortunately, they weren’t alone. 

Boil and Waxer, dressed in their blacks, looked up at them with the strangest expression, a mix of curiosity, bewilderment, and utter horror. 

“Uh, General Skywalker, what is  _ that? _ ” Waxer unneedily whispered, gesturing towards the open supply closet. 

Anakin and Ahsoka creeped closer to get a better look. 

It was little Obi-Wan, curled in on himself and pressed into the corner of the little-used closet. As a kid, Obi-Wan’s eyes gleamed even brighter, twinkling with what Anakin supposed was the scattered remnants of childhood innocence. His small legs were tucked to his chest, head resting on knobby knees, as he quivered and whimpered under the gaze of half a dozen strangers. Anakin noted with a small pang of pity and hurt that Obi-Wan had soiled his pants and was currently sitting and squirming in the small puddle beneath him. 

“ _ He’s _ a child,” Ahsoka haughtily corrected. 

“Okay, and how did  _ he _ get on the ship?”

Boil elbowed Waxer in the gut. “I think how he got on the ship is the least of our worries. Poor little guy is scared out of his mind. He even pissed himself.”

“Maybe we should find General Kenobi? The kid does kind of resemble the man a bit, don’t you think?”

Anakin has had enough. He curtly ordered the clone duo to secure either side of the corridor, to allow no one through, and to stop asking so many damn questions. He was already bordering on distraught, knowing this was the exact kind of situation he would have expected Obi-Wan to take control of but incapable of actually leaning on said man for support. 

He was horrible with kids, always too brash, too clumsy, and lacking too much affection, and in return, kids terrified him, always so vulnerable, naive, and demanding. 

Anakin was in over his head, and when he looked at little Obi-Wan, he was reminded of when he first met the man, simultaneously astonished but unnerved by those eyes. 

He shifted his weight from side to side before looking towards Ahsoka for help. 

“I don’t know how to deal with kids,” he admitted.

Ahsoka gave him a look that read as,  _ you’re kidding, right? _ , before rolling her eyes in exasperation. She smoothed her expression before hesitantly taking a step in Obi-Wan’s direction, giving her most friendly smile. 

“Hey there,” she cooed. Obi-Wan directed his gaze at the Togruta but gave no response. 

“I know you probably don’t remember me at all,” she continued. “But I’m your friend, and I want to help you.” 

No response. 

“Why don’t we get you cleaned up, and find you something to eat. I know you must be hungry.”

Obi-Wan blinked, face indicating that he understood none of what Ahsoka just said, and Ahsoka’s fingers twitched by her side. 

“You must be hurting as well. You’ve got some serious cuts, but we can fix you right up!”

The trembling didn’t cease, and Obi-Wan’s gaze fell from the padawan to the ground. 

Ahsoka glanced behind herself wearily before retreating slightly. 

“I don’t know what to say for him to trust me.”

Anakin briefly thought of just hauling little Obi-Wan back to medical, but he wanted his former Master to trust him and go with them willingly to best prevent any more disturbances aboard the ship. He gulped, wondering if he would have to give a shot at coaxing the child out of the corner, but Cody beat him to it.

The Commander, with slow, graceful, calculated movements approached the child, falling onto one knee. Obi-Wan watched him with a guarded expression, arms tightening around his legs. 

Anakin expected the man to say something, but he didn’t, simply held out a steady, open hand and waited. 

Everyone held their breath as they analyzed the interaction with rapt fascination. Obi-Wan’s guarded expression melted into something entirely different, an expression that Anakin couldn’t quite describe, something that was neither positive nor negative. 

After almost two minutes, Anakin was becoming antsy, but suddenly the fragility of the moment shattered as Obi-Wan suddenly leaned forward, slipping his small hand into the larger one of Cody. 

Still, Cody did not say a word, only helping Obi-Wan to his feet and providing a small, warm smile. Anakin was astonished to see a faint pink blush dust across the child’s cheekbones before Obi-Wan ducked his head, chin pressed into his chest. 

Cody looked at the rest of them and shrugged at their mystified faces. 

“Shall we?”

  
  
  


Back in medbay, Obi-Wan refused to let go of Cody, and Cody, who had once been so bewildered by the entire situation and his small, young General, had now gone soft with the invaluable trust that Obi-Wan had bestowed upon him. 

Kix weakly attempted to cajole a silent (and cleaned up) Obi-Wan to sit back on the bed, but the former Jedi Master simply turned his back to the medic and pressed his face into the white armor of Cody’s leg. 

Thankfully, Obi-Wan ultimately yielded, sitting next to Cody upon the bed and continuing to press his face into the stoic man’s bicep, hands wrapped tight around his forearm. 

Inserting the IV again was fruitless, so Ahsoka made a quick run to the mess hall to grab whatever foods were appropriate for a four year olds. With even more quiet persuasion, Obi-Wan begrudgingly and bashfully ate a few spoonfuls of some leftover pudding and sipped at a water bottle (only if Cody held it for him). 

All through this, Obi-Wan never said one word, and while he of course didn’t expect the child to be the eloquent and charismatic speaker his older self was, the silence was still disconcerting. 

Anakin voiced this concern as Cody, with Kix’s guidance, began to clean Obi-Wan’s still open cuts and to rub bacta gel across the bruises. 

“I don’t think he  _ can _ speak,” the Commander mused softly. 

“What do you mean he ‘can’t’? That’s impossible,” Ahsoka replied. 

“Well of course he has the ability, but I have the inkling that there is some sort of psychological or learning impediment confounded with a possible language barrier.” 

Kik nodded his head. “I’ve had some experience treating decommissioned clones, who’ve experienced severe trauma, and there were periods of time where they just went  _ silent _ . They couldn’t utter a single word for months.”

_ Selective mutism.  _ Anakin knew the disorder was not only common with those experiencing the effects of PTSD but also with socially anxious children. He refused to think his smooth-talking, perpetually calm Master fell into any of those two groups, and it was becoming increasingly hard to conflate the image of this battered and bruised child with the great Obi-Wan Kenobi. 

Ahsoka settled next to Anakin, who was leaning on the far wall. “Maybe if we better knew about Obi-Wan’s history, we could somehow communicate with him better. Perhaps Basic isn’t his native language?”

Again, all eyes turned towards the Jedi Knight, and again, Anakin was feeling out of his depth. 

“I-I don’t know where Obi-Wan is from,” Anakin professed, and a sensation akin to shame washing over him.  _ He knew nothing about his Master _ , and because of this, he was so poorly equipped to help him. It was bordering on painful watching Obi-Wan take so naturally to the serene and secure presence of Cody. With bitterness, he acknowledged he couldn’t do the same. 

But, it  _ was  _ supposed to be him. He was the one with the (now dissolved) Force bond with Obi-Wan. He was the one who knew him the longest. He was the one who could recognize the cadence of his breath, the glow of his aura, and the rhythm of his step. 

It was him, but it wasn’t. 

And it angered him. 

It was improper control on his part to not even realize his projection of such resentful and sullen feelings until Ahsoka was smacking him on the shoulder and pulling him out of those dangerous thoughts, but the damage was already done. 

He had released those dark sentiments into the Force, and to the untrained Force sensitive, those feelings accumulated and built up with a vicious intensity. 

Heart clenching dreadfully, he watched as the tremble in Obi-Wan’s frame returned and those lucent glaze over. 

“Good work, Skyguy,” Ahsoka remarked with a sigh. “He’s gonna cry now.”

And Obi-Wan did. 

_ Holy shit.  _

  
  
  


“I’m gonna rip Mace a new one,” Anakin growled, furiously pacing in circles around the medbay. “You would think this would be something they should  _ and _ would have told me before?! And to only say  _ ‘there is still a lot you don’t know about Obi-Wan’s past _ ’ is a little misleading, don’t you think? Considering the absolute shit that he went through as a kid?”

“Maybe the de-aging wasn’t the only side effect? I mean,  _ come on _ , Master Kenobi must have cried in front of you before, right? And we’re  _ two years _ into this War? I doubt the man could have kept a secret like this for so long?” Ahsoka attempted to reason. 

Anakin briefly paused but shook his head. “No, I’ve never seen Obi-Wan cry. He doesn’t really like to  _ show _ any emotion. I used to joke that he was allergic to feelings. I never expected something like this...”

The Jedi thought of the shimmering caves of Ilum, the ceiling of the abandoned temple flickering like stars, the incandescent eyes of Obi-Wan, and finally of the dozen or so kyber crystals gathered on the table before him. His hand hovered over the pale blue kybers, feeling the threads of the Force tainted with echoes of his own projected feelings. 

His eyes drifted over towards Obi-Wan who had cried himself fitfully to sleep. The kid’s eyes were ringed with red, and Anakin could still see the dried tear tracks. The former Jedi Master snuggled further into Cody’s side, and Anakin was smart enough this time to pull his shields tighter and swallow the ugly taste of jealousy. 

“Should we attempt to contact the Council again?” Rex asked. 

Anakin shook his head. “No, Master Yoda is right.  _ Whatever  _ is going on with Obi-Wan is much too delicate to speak about over signal frequencies. I don’t even want to imagine what would happen if the Separatists manage to intercept a message about a de-aged Obi-Wan or the fact that he cries kyber crystals.” 

“Kyber crystals are not only sought after by pirates and smugglers, looking to sell a pretty gem on the black market, but by the Sith as well. They harbor Force-attuned energy, and having an unlimited supply of that could be well...dangerous,” Ahsoka further explained. 

Watching Cody, Rex, and Kik digest that information was interesting, a sort of dark and grim understanding dawning across their features. 

“The best thing we can do is get Obi-Wan back to normal as soon as possible,” Anakin decided, pocketing the handful of kyber crystals. 

They would be the most safe close to him. 

  
  
  


Traversing back to that abandoned temple was just as daunting as it was the first time, especially since they had decided to not bring any more necessary back up. 

They found themselves back in the cavernous room, kyber crystals glinting ominously overhead. Obi-Wan was limp in Cody’s hold. They had decided to give the child a small sedative with the knowledge that it would virtually be impossible to get him back in those waters through simple persuasion. 

The four of them encircled the neat but small hole in the center of the temple floor.

The thrum of the Force reverberated most potently from the still black waters, and even the glow of the kyber crystals did little to illuminate things. Anakin didn’t know how deep that thing was, and his only comfort was that Cody had pulled Obi-Wan from it once before, and he would do it again. 

“He’s not going to drown, right?” Ahsoka wearily asked. 

It was such a morbid thing to consider, and Anakin quickly reassured his padawan that they were not gonna allow Obi-Wan to drown. They would quickly dunk him in the water, pull out a fully grown Obi-Wan Kenobi, and hope the Council had figured out a way to get them back to Coruscant. 

Ahsoka looked skeptical, but Anakin was hopeful. Cody’s and Rex’s expression were carefully concealed, but the Jedi Knight told himself to believe that they too were optimistic. 

The four of them looked around at each other before realizing it was now or never. Cody knelt on the edge, and Obi-Wan’s small head lolled softly to the side and off his shoulder, a string of drool sticking innocently to his cheek. Sure and large hands gripped the child underneath his armpits and hoisted him over the waters. An unconscious Obi-Wan dangled there for a tense moment before the Commander regained his nerves and slowly lowered the former General down. 

Then, a number of things happened at once. 

By the time, Obi-Wan’s head slipped underneath the waters, the kyber crystals overhead began to brighten as if more Force energy was being pumped into the room, and a voice, discordant and rumbling spoke itself into Anakin’s mind,  _ What are you doing here?,  _ it asked. 

Anakin and Ahsoka whirled around, lightsabers ignited and posed to fight. 

He did not expect to see three, small, gray sentient beings before him. The Jedi Knight and padawan however didn’t allow the unassuming appearances of the three to lull them into a false sense of comfort, and Rex jumped to his feet as well, aiming his blaster in their direction. 

_ What are you doing here? _ , the voice repeated again. 

It was strange. He didn’t know who the voice was coming from; it was as if the voice was coming from all around him but  _ within _ him as well. 

“Who are  _ you? _ ” Ahsoka asked instead, twin sabers held tightly in her grasp. “We thought this place was abandoned.”

_ This place is our home, our sanctuary. Foreigners are not allowed.  _

“We don’t want any trouble,” Anakin said, placating. 

_ Then lower your weapons. This Temple is sacred and peaceful. It will not be tainted by your violence, Jedi.  _

Anakin glanced at Ahsoka on his left and then Rex on his right before nodding, and the three of them cautiously lowered their weapons. 

Then he heard coughing and gasping, and Anakin was quickly glancing behind himself to see Cody pull out a soaking wet,  _ thankfully fully grown _ , body from the waters, slumped over and pliant. He breathed a sigh of relief, pushing down the overwhelming desire to rush over towards his Master and assure him everything was alright, everything would be alright. 

“We mean no harm. Our ship is stranded, and we came earlier looking for help, and we found this place. My friend was—well—turned into his child self, and we came back to turn him back. We don’t know how it happened....but you probably do.”

There was a long, painful silence until the voice returned. 

_ As a child of the Force, you should understand the nature of this place. This is the homeworld of the  _ _ Aing-Tii _ _ , crafted by the Force after an implosion of a star cluster more than millennium ago. The threads of the Force converge and flow more freely here.  _

“A child of the Force?” Ahsoka repeats, eyes sliding over towards Anakin in confusion.

He bit his tongue, not wanting to explain that particular part of his past. Ahsoka, and mostly everyone associated with the Order, knew of the prophecy, knew that he was the destined Chosen One. He didn’t quite go around explaining how he came to be — his non existent father or his mother’s mysterious and miraculous pregnancy. Obi-Wan had told him as a child that he had been born by the Force, created and shaped by its universal power. It was much too confusing and nuanced for even him to ponder for too long. 

He could tell these beings were Force sensitive, but how they knew about this part of him was inexplicable. 

_ Yes, a child of the Force. We have heard of you, Anakin Skywalker, and the Force whirls inside of you like a turbulent storm, and we know of your friend, Obi-Wan Kenobi, another child of the Force, much like you but still so different, so rare.  _

Anakin looked back at Obi-Wan again, his wet robe covering the entire length of his body, hood pulled low over his face. Cody held the unconscious, shivering body tight in his arms. 

“How do you know about him?” the Jedi Knight hesitantly asked. 

_ We are the  _ _ Aing-Tii. We live amongst the Force, it feeds us, connects us to everything. We can feel the thrum of star materials within him. It is like this place, can’t you feel it as well? _

Anakin didn’t know what “it” was, but yes, he thought did feel it. 

_ This temple is dedicated to the Aperitor _ ,  _ that in which your friend has unfortunately fallen into. The Force not only connects all living things, but all things that have lived, and all things that will live. The Aperitor is the embodiment of this, and allows for the individual to drift through and along the threads of the Force that stretch into all directions of time. It is dangerous; however, and cannot be controlled.  _

At those words, Cody tentatively lifted his hand to the hood draped over Obi-Wan’s face and slowly pushed it back. The whoosh of air expelling from the Commander’s lungs had panic working its way up and into Anakin’s lungs. He rushed over and stumbled to his knees in front of his former Master. 

Obi-Wan’s face was smooth and round, damp cheeks slightly pudgy and pinched red. His few wrinkles had disappeared, and his hair which had been shot with streaks of gray was now a fully, soft strawberry-blonde color.  _ Oh, his hair _ ….his slightly long cut was now almost completely cut off, except for the nerf tail and padawan braid hanging over one ear. 

_ What the… _

“How do we —”

_ You cannot.  _

“What do you mean we ‘cannot’?” Anakin countered angrily. His gaze kept flickering back and forth from the  Aing-Tii and to Obi-Wan.

_ The  _ _ Aperitor is dangerous. You were lucky two times, but may not be the third. Your friend could easily be lost in the threads of the Force, brought to a time where he does not exist or will not exist, and then there will be no saving.  _

“We’ll never get him back?” Ahsoka asked. “He’ll never remember us?”

_ His memories are still there, but they are pushed back and hidden. It may be some time before he is able to have any recollection of his past life.  _

Obi-Wan groaned and stirred in Cody’s arms, rousing much more quickly than his four year old self had. 

_ You must go now and not return. Only the Aing-Tii are permitted in this place.  _

Anakin cupped the back of Obi-Wan’s head, and he watched with uninhibited intrigue as another weak moan spilled from those lips. At last, Obi-Wan’s eyelids fluttered open, revealing those familiar eyes, blazing with such luminosity, the light of the kyber crystals above catching them just so that they glowed amongst the darkness. The man—the  _ boy— _ laid out in front of him looked at Anakin first, looking at him as if he were seeing him for the first time, and Anakin supposed he was.

The next words weren’t quite what the Jedi Knight was expecting however.

“Where’s Master Jinn?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> blah bla blah more Force stuff and weird things, but next chapter we will be actually getting into the good stuff :))))))) hopefully. I won't be updating until I finish up "rite of movement" so it may be a week or two


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